


One Coffee, Black

by QueenMorrigan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMorrigan/pseuds/QueenMorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day a man comes in to the coffee shop Steve Rogers runs with Natasha Romanoff. Every day he barely speaks and every day he orders the same thing, "one coffee, black." Steve swears he knows the man from somewhere but can't recall anything about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Venti Espresso

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction guys! Comments and critique are welcome. Hoping for regular updates (weekly) and also if anyone wants to beta this, that would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> btw if anyone actually knows Russian can you please correct Natasha's lines since I'm sure they are very very incorrect

Natasha rapped her pen against the counter. “There’s this girl who works in the boutique across the street. She’s cute.”

Steve sighed, “Aren’t you supposed to be taking orders, not playing matchmaker for me?”

Natasha smacked her bubble gum. “There’s no one here. Look around, old man,” she said gesturing to the empty coffee shop.

Steve spoke, “just because I like Frank Sinatra and thought ‘lol’ meant ‘lots of love’ does not mean I’m an ‘old ma-“

“You use the word ma’am,” Natasha said.

Steve looked indignant. “It’s polite.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” Natasha left the counter and walked to the back of the shop, leaving Steve to continue arranging and rearranging the empty coffee cups. Steve rolled his eyes. Natasha had been calling him old man since they were in high school together. He hadn’t really expected her to stop now.

With Natasha in the back, manning the oven, the shop was almost eerily quiet. The only sound came from a few notes of smooth jazz playing from some old speakers Natasha had found at a garage sale.The silence wouldn't last long though, the morning crowd had all left, but the lunch crowd would arrive soon. Not that the little coffee shop ever had much a crowd. The lunch crowd was usually just a few lone hipsters.

The bell above the door rang. A man sauntered through the doorway and walked over to Steve. He leaned against the counter, seemingly unaware that the sleeve of his sports jacket was resting in a coffee spill. He said, “well if it isn’t the Star Spangled Man himself???”

Steve wondered what was with his friends and their tendency to giving him annoying nicknames. “Hello, Tony.”

Tony smiled. He looked even more disheveled than usual. His Black Sabbath tee shirt was wrinkled and decorated with a myriad of stains.

Natasha called out from the back room, “Is that Tony? Tell him to go fuck himself.”

Steve said, “She wants you to go fuck yourself.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah but she called me Tony, not Stark.” He shouted back, “see I told you you’d warm up to me!”

“пошел на хуй маленький человечек” Natasha yelled.

“No wonder there’s no else here but me. She’s probably scaring all the customers away,” Tony said and then stared at the menu.

He stared at the menu for so long that Steve had begun to suspect he had fallen asleep while standing. “Are you gonna order?” Steve asked.

“Oh right. Right. Yeah I want a venti espresso to go,” Tony said rubbing his head.

“We don’t sell espresso in a venti size.”

“Why not?”

  
“Because that’s 20 shots of espresso and we have a strict policy against customers dying.”

“I’m not gonna die.”

Steve sighed. He had been doing that a lot today. “You’re an idiot and you’re getting a latte, with one shot of espresso, not twenty.”

Tony groaned. “Do you have any idea of the scientific discoveries that the earth is being deprived of, because stickler Steve Rogers won’t give me the caffeine I need to stay awake for three days straight.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, while steaming the milk for Tony’s latte.

Natasha emerged from the back room, holding a tray of muffins. “So, Tony, I’m trying to set Steve up with someone. Know anyone cute?”

Steve groaned. “Please don’t drag him into this.” He poured the milk into the cup of coffee.

“There’s this girl, Sharon, that works in HR. She’s nice,” Tony said. “Oh wait. No I slept with her. Or maybe it was her sister. I don’t remember.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Natasha said, shoving the latte into Tony’s hand. “Вы роговой немного ублюдок”

“I don’t know what you just said, but I’m going to assume it was an insult,” Tony said. He laughed as he walked out of the shop.

Natasha turned to Steve, “please tell me that latte was decaffeinated.”

“Yeah” Steve said. “Pepper called ahead of time, warning that he would be coming in. She said under we were not to give him caffeine under any circumstance. Apparently he hasn’t slept in 4 days.”

Natasha finished putting the muffins in the display case. “Hey will you watch the shop? Clint just texted me saying that he lost his dog again.”

“Yeah sure,” Steve said. “How many times has he lost that dog now?”

Natasha grabbed her coat and scarf from under the counter. “I don’t know. Hopefully the stupid dog learns its name soon, cause I will not keep leaving work to help Clint trace down the mutt.” Natasha walked over and opened the door. “Thanks again.” The bell let out a soft jingle as Natasha walked away, her heels clicking against the pavement.

Steve went to the back to see if the scones were done and then started organizing the change in the cash register. He had just finished counting the 20s when he heard the bell jingle.

He looked up to see a man walk through the door. The man walked up to the counter, and said, “One coffee, black.”

Steve nodded and started making the coffee. Every day, for two weeks now, the man had had come into shop and ordered “one coffee, black.” Those were the only words the man ever said. After he left Natasha would always amuse herself by speculating why this stranger was willing to pay for a $5 cup of plain coffee, seemed to only own one ratty hoodie, and always had dark circles under his eyes. Steve told Natasha that she was being absurd and that the man was just a regular customer, but every time he came in Steve always found some reason to be in the back of the shop.

Steve asked, “Name?” without making eye contact. Steve knew he was being ridiculous, but there was something about the stranger’s blank gaze that made him want to look away.

The man said, “Bucky,” with the same expressionless tone that he had ordered in.

Steve nodded again. He started writing the name on a tall cup with a Sharpie, but he dropped the pen before he could even start writing the ‘u’. “Goddamn it,” Steve said under his breath. He went to grab the pen, but it rolled under the counter and settled beside the stranger’s boots. Steve blushed “Sorry I guess I’m just a bit of a klutz today.”

Without saying a word, the man picked up the pen and held it out to Steve. The man smiled and Steve started to blush again. He grabbed the pen, murmured “Sorry”, and thought _Thank god Natasha isn’t here to see this_. Steve finished writing Bucky’s name and turned the coffee maker on. For a while both he and Bucky stood there in silence, listening to smooth jazz and the drip of coffee.

Steve fidgeted with his apron a bit and said, “So… I guess you’re a bit of a regular here now.”

Bucky nodded and the silence began again. Usually customers were always eager to share a bit of small talk as they waited for their order, but this man seemed to have an endless tolerance for awkward silence. Steve thought about trying to start a conversation but instead just started fiddling with the coffee machine, pretending he was actually doing something.

The machine beeped, indicating the coffee was done. Steve popped a lid on the cup and hastily handed it to Bucky. He expected Bucky to just grab his coffee and go. Instead Bucky walked over to a small book shelf in the corner, grabbed a book, and sat down at a table in the corner to drink his coffee and read. Steve stared at Bucky. He didn’t remember Bucky ever staying the shop before. Whenever Natasha had served him, he had just grabbed his coffee and left. Steve knew it wasn’t that weird, a customer getting a coffee to go sometimes and staying in the shop sometimes, but there was something about the man that irked him. Maybe it was the man’s dark attire, the bags under his eyes, or the vague sense that Steve had seen him somewhere before. Steve realized he had been staring at the man for a while now. Bucky glanced up from his book and Steve hastily averted his eyes. Steve started wiping down the counters, even though he had just cleaned them a few minutes ago.

After 15 minutes, Bucky stood up, threw his coffee in the trash, and returned the book to its shelf. Steve couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when Bucky finally walked out the front door.

Natasha showed up a while later, with dirt in her hair and mud on her boots. When Steve asked what had happened she told him that if Clint ever called the shop again, Steve was to tell Clint that both he and his stupid dog could go to hell. Steve didn’t question her further. The rest of the shift went by uneventfully. As per usual just enough customers came in that he and Natasha didn’t have to worry about the business going bankrupt, but not much more than that.


	2. A Quick Sketch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! I'm going to be trying to update every Sunday from now on. Once again this is my first fic, so comments and critiques are welcome!

At the end of the day, Steve helped Natasha close up the shop and left for his apartment in Brooklyn. He walked there, till it started to the rain, and then he began to sprint home. When he arrived at the front door of his apartment he was cold and soaking wet. His hand shook as he fumbled to put the key into the lock with his numb fingers. When he finally got inside his roommate, Sam Wilson, was sitting on the couch watching some detective television show. Sam looked at him and said “whoa man, did Thor throw you in a swimming pool again?”

“I kind of wish he did. At least that swimming pool was sort of warm,” Steve said.

“Well if you manage not to freeze to death before you change, there’s a pizza on the kitchen table.”

Steve walked into the bedroom to change. The apartment only had two rooms, a main living area and a bedroom, It was all Steve and Sam could afford on a barista’s and part-time gym instructor’s salary. Steve grabbed a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt from a box marked “Steve’s things” in the corner. There was another box marked “Sam’s things” beside it. The boxes had been meant to be temporary, but neither he nor Sam had a lot of possessions and with he and Sam switching off who got to sleep in the bedroom it seemed silly to invest in actual dresser.

Steve left the bedroom and went to grab a slice of pizza from a box sitting on the kitchen table. The pizza was cold, but it tasted like heaven to Steve. Steve had been so busy covering Natasha, he hadn’t been able to take a lunch break. Well, he probably could have taken a lunch break, but he would hate it if he and Natasha missed out on a customr because he was in the back, eating. He grabbed a second slice.

“Dude,” Sam said. “The pizza will still be there in 10 minutes. You don’t have to inhale it. You can maybe even chew it a little. Actually taste it.”

“Sorry,” Steve said. “I wasn’t able to eat at the shop. I had to cover for Natasha.”

“Yeah, I heard. Clint’s dog ran away.”

“Did he call you too?”

“Uh huh. I couldn’t help though, I was at work.”

Steve sat down on the couch by Sam. He spent a few minutes trying to figure out what exactly the plot of the detective show was, but he gave up after a while. His mind just kept drifting back to the stranger at work. He knew he had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember meeting anyone named Bucky before. He thought he would have remembered a name like “Bucky”.

“Hey,” Sam said. He snapped his fingers. “Earth to Steve.”

"What?" Steve said, startled.

"Dude, you've been staring at the wall for at least 20 minutes."

“Really? Wow, I'm tired.”

“You should just go to bed. I’ll take the couch tonight.”

Steve tried to protest, “no. It’s your turn.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t show up at the apartment looking like a drowned puppy, so I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch tonight. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Steve smiled and went to the bedroom. He would have argued with Sam further, but he had learned that was fruitless around the twentieth or so time Sam had offered to sleep on the couch when it wasn't his turn. And this time Steve didn’t really want to argue. He really was tired. When Steve laid down on the bed, he fell asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

The bell on the door rang. Steve looked up from the chai tea latte he was making to see Clint walk up to the counter. Clint was wearing his usual faded purple tee shirt and ripped jeans. Clint asked, “Is Natasha here?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back,” Steve said. “I should warn you though that she told me last week that if you ever came back, I was supposed to tell you to go to hell.”

Clint groaned. “She’s been giving me the silent treatment ever since we tried to hunt down Lucky.”

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“We chased after Lucky for a few hours. When we finally found him, I had Nat hold his leash. That’s when Lucky saw an old pizza box lying beside the trail and started sprinting towards it. He dragged Natasha with him for a while and then escaped again.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“She had to throw her scarf out, it was so covered in mud.”

“She’ll get over it soon.”

“This is Nat! She doesn’t get over things! She gets revenge. I mean she’s great and all, but she’s fucking terrifying. Remember what she did to her ex?”

“He cheated on her Clint,” Steve said. “You just have a dumb dog.”

“I guess you’re right.” Clint said, but he still looked on edge.

Last summer Natasha had been going out with a boy, Strucker or something. No one could remember his name and they all were too afraid to ask her. When she found out he had cheated on her, she had immediately taken all of his stuff from her apartment, put it in a box, and thrown it off the Brooklyn Bridge. She texted the boy a picture of the soggy box drifting down the river and that was the last time she acknowledged his existence. When he showed up at her doorstep a few days later, saying that it had all been a mistake and he was sorry, Natasha acted as though she had never met him before.

Steve took pity on Clint, “You know what? I’ll go talk to her in the back. Watch the counter while I’m gone.”

Steve walked to the back of the room, where Natasha was pouring batter into muffin trays. There was flour all over her red hair and black apron. She was singing something to herself quietly in Russian.

Steve coughed.

Natasha looked up from her baking, startled. “Steve. Who’s manning the counter? Why are you back here?”

“Clint’s here. He’s hoping you’ll talk to him.”

Natasha sighed. “Right. I had sort of forgotten I was giving him the silent treatment.” She had the decency to look sheepish. Steve didn't think she'd ever look sheepish about anyone, but Clint. “I guess I should go talk to him. Oh god, I hope he doesn’t think I’m too mad. I didn’t even like that scarf that much, I’ve just been having a bad week-“

“Well,” Steve said. “Maybe you should go tell him that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Will you finish the muffins? They just need to go into the oven.”

Steve nodded and Natasha went to talk to Clint. Steve poured the rest of the batter into the tray and started putting the muffins in the oven. Usually Natasha worked in the back, since Natasha was the better baker and Steve was better with people, but every now and then Steve preferred to work in the back. It was just so quiet there. The only sound was the muffled sounds of the shop outside the door and the hum of the refrigerator. Plus he liked to sketch while waiting for the pastries to finish baking. He had just finished doodling a small drawing of a coffee cup on the back of one of Natasha’s cookbooks, when the oven timer went off. Steve put on a baking mitt and went to grab the muffins. Natasha came into the room right as he sat them on the table.

“Oh good,” Natasha said. “They look good.”

“I may not be as good a baker as you, but I can handle taking a muffin tray in and out of the oven,” Steve said.

“Ha ha. We’re running low on lemon bread, so I’m gonna do up some more,” She said, grabbing a recipe book from a shelf on the side of the room. Steve took his cue to leave and went to stand at the counter.

The coffee shop was moderately busy for once. There was a young couple sitting at a table in the corner, a few hipsters hanging out around the book shelf in the back, and a mother typing on a laptop while her son nibbled on a pastry. Maybe Shield Coffee’s business was finally starting pick up.

Steve served a few more customers before he looked back at the clock and realized that any minute now Bucky would come in to order his coffee and sit down. The man had been coming in so regularly that Steve could predict his arrival to the minute.

The bell rung and Bucky walked through the door. He was wearing his usual black attire and tired eyes. He walked up to Steve and asked for “one coffee, black”. Steve nodded and started to make the coffee. He had given up trying to make small talk with the man. Nothing he ever said was enough to elicit more than a one word response. It was clear Bucky didn’t want to talk to Steve and yet, Bucky always waited at the counter instead of at a table. Steve filled Bucky’s cup with coffee, popped a lid on it, and handed it to him. Bucky took it, went to the bookshelf to grab the same battered copy of the Odyssey he had been reading for a month now, and sat down at a table.

Steve stared at the door, waiting to see if anyone would walk in, but when no one did, he began to doodle on a piece of paper lying by the cash register. Steve started off drawing the flowers on each table, then one of the pastries on display, and eventually found himself looking towards where Bucky was sitting. Steve began to sketch Bucky’s long hair, the dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble on his chin. Eventually he became so engrossed in the drawing that Steve stopped looking towards Bucky. Every line was from memory.

“Ahem.” Steve looked up to see a customer standing in front of him. He had been so zoned out he hadn’t heard the bell ring. “Could I please have a latte and a blueberry scone?” The customer asked.

“Sure” Steve said. He went to reach for the milk, but his elbow bumped against the paper he had been drawing on, knocking it to the ground.

“Oh here let me get that for you,” the customer said, smiling, but when the man went to grab the paper he saw someone else had reached it first. Bucky was holding the paper and staring at it.

_Oh god_ Steve thought. This was the most embarrassing moment of his life and probably the creepiest moment in Bucky’s. Steve tried to think of something to say, but all he could think was _How am I going to explain this? Is it even possible for me to explain this without sounding incredibly creepy? Oh god. Oh no._

Bucky walked up to Steve, holding the paper in his hand. Steve couldn’t look him in the eyes. Bucky held out the paper to Steve and said, “It’s really good. Almost as good as the real thing.” Steve looked up to see Bucky smiling. He was so taken back that he just accepted the paper without a word. Bucky smiled even more than turned to walk out the door.

Steve stood there in silence for a bit, trying to process what had just happened. He had given up trying to get two words out of the stranger and now he had not only gotten three sentences, he had gotten a smile. Steve started making the customer’s latte. Who knows, he might actually get a conversation next week.


	3. Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Wednesday is basically Tuesday, which is basically Sunday, right? Seriously, sorry this is so late. Also this is a very Bucky-lite chapter, so my apologies to the hardcore Stucky shippers out there.
> 
> Once again comments and critiques are welcome (I have no idea what I'm doing any input would be appreciated.)

Steve handed the customer his latte. He was pretty sure he was still blushing. He felt like he was in high school again and the cute girl in his math class had just passed him a note.

“Wow.”

Oh no. Steve had forgotten about Natasha. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, holding a loaf of lemon bread and raising her eyebrows.

“Do you always draw our customers or…?”

“I…uh…It’s not what it looks like…well, it kinda is… what do you think this looks like?” Steve stammered.

“I think it looks like the reason why you keep refusing to let me set you up with any girls.” Natasha said. Natasha was smiling slightly now. She looked less surprised or horrified than Steve had expected.

Steve swallowed. “I like girls… I just… like guys too.” He was blushing bright red now. He had never hidden his sexuality from Natasha, but he had never truly been open about it either. He liked to think this was because he knew that his sexuality didn’t define him as a person, or that he knew Natasha wouldn’t care, but he knew that wasn’t quite true. Steve accepted himself, but he had heard one too many “you’re just confused” comments or been called a faggot enough, that every time he thought about telling Natasha he would picture how those comments would sound in her voice and the fear would glue his lips shut.

“Are you okay with that?” Steve asked.

Natasha nodded. “Does anyone else know?”

“Some people back home and Sam, but that’s it.”

“Are you gonna tell anyone else?”

Steve paused. He had just assumed Natasha would tell his friends for him. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” Natasha said. “You should be able to tell them on your own terms.”

“I mean… I guess…” Once again Steve knew what he should say, that of course she could tell everyone because he was comfortable with himself and it didn’t matter, but once again the fear stopped him. “I’ll tell them eventually.”

Natasha nodded. “Okay. Now that that’s over, will you go wipe down the table in the far right corner and when you’re done with that you’ll have to tell me more about the love affair between you and our tall, dark, and mysterious customer.” Natasha smirked.

“It is not a love affair,” Steve said.

“You got him to actually say something other than ‘one coffee, black’, as far as I’ve observed that’s probably the most spoken interaction he’s ever had with another human.”

Steve sighed and went to wipe down the table. Cleaning up the coffee spill, was almost a welcome distraction from the conversation he had been having with Natasha. Steve finished up wiping up the spill and walked back to the counter. Natasha had just finished serving a customer a cappuccino and was checking her phone.

“Hey,” she said. “Tony wants to know if you can come over tonight.”  
“Why did he text you that?” Steve asked.

“’Cause he invited me too and even Tony is observant enough to realize that we work together.”

“Oh right. Dumb question.”

“So, are you free?”

Steve thought about it. He vaguely remembered Sam saying something about having a date tonight. He said, “Yeah, I think so. Who else is coming?”

“Me, you, Bruce, Thor, and Clint. The usual.”

Steve nodded and went back to work. Natasha continued to stare at her phone. She said, “and I know you said you’d tell them eventually… but tonight could be eventually.”

Steve stopped and stared at Natasha. “I thought you were on board with me telling them on my own terms.”

“I am,” Natasha said. “I’m just saying that tonight would be as good a time as any to tell them. After all if you’re comfortable with your sexuality why should you not be comfortable with it around your friends. I’m sure everyone will be accepting.”

Steve said, “Maybe.”

“Consider it,” Natasha said.

 

* * *

 

Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint were all sitting on Tony’s couch. Like everything else in Tony’s penthouse the couch was sleek, futuristic, and monochrome. Clint was perched on the couch speaking to Natasha. Tony was speaking to Bruce, waving his arms excitedly as Bruce nodded. Only Steve and Thor were sitting at the bar, just a few feet away.

Steve sat on a bar stool. His hands shook as they clutched a wine glass he was yet to sip from. He was trying to focus on what Thor was talking about, something about Thor’s gym, the one Sam worked at. Instead of listening Steve was running through his head what exactly he would say when he came out to the group. He had come up with a thousand different ways to say, “I’m bi”, but every time he thought about actually saying the words aloud a lump grew in his throat. He had tried practicing in a mirror, but he had felt ridiculous. He thought it might be easier to say drunk, so he accepted the glass of wine Thor offered him, but then changed his mind.

“Friend,” Steve felt a large hand clap his shoulder. “What troubles you?” Thor might be the only person in the world who could make Steve feel small compared to him. Whenever Steve was with Thor he felt like he was in ninth grade again, so skinny a slight breeze could knock him over. It would have been intimidating if Thor didn’t have the personality of a golden retriever.

“I’m fine,” Steve said, although his hands were still shaking. “I… uh… I was actually planning on saying something.”

“Would you like me to quiet everyone, so that you might speak?” Thor asked.

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, actually that would be great.”

Thor slammed his fist against the bar so hard, that the countertop vibrated.

The room went silent, aside from a muffled “holy shit” from Tony.

“Friends! Steve has something he would like to share with us.” Thor looked to Steve. Steve stood up from his bar stool. He took another deep breath. He looked towards Natasha, who nodded at him in encouragement.

“I…” Steve said. “I’m bi. I’ve known for a while now, and I felt like it was time to share that with you. I hope this doesn’t change the way you see me and that we remain friends.” Steve sat down. He had hoped that the worst part would be actually saying his speech. He had delivered it like a robot, reciting the lines he had been repeating to himself for the past hour. Every moment he spoke had been anxious agony, but it was nothing compared to the way he felt now, looking out at the faces of his friends, searching them for any sign of horror, shock, and disgust.

“Motherfucker,” Clint said. He pulled his wallet out and began to take out wads of cash. Tony and Thor followed suit.

Steve stared. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, this was not one he had prepared for.

Tony tossed his wad of bills at Natasha. “I swear to god you are some sort of witch,” he said.

“Oh please, it was obvious,” Natasha said, counting the cash. Clint set some bills on the table as well and Thor walked over to the couch to give Natasha his cash.

Bruce just sat there shaking his head. “Steve, what you just did was very brave and of course we won’t think any lesser of you for being bi,” Bruce said. “I think we can all agree on that.” Bruce glared at the others.

“Oh yeah.” Tony looked up at Steve. “Totally. Very Brave. Would have been better if you had come out as gay of course, could have saved Thor, Clint, and me some money, but still very brave.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “Did you place bets on my sexuality?”

“I told them it was insensitive,” Bruce said.

“Insensitive and costly,” Clint added.

Steve looked to Natasha. “That’s why you were trying to convince me to come out tonight.”

Natasha smirked. “I saw a necklace I liked the other day and this idiot”, she gestured to Tony, “placed $100 on you being gay.”

Steve put his head in his hands. “Oh god. You all knew. Was it that obvious?”

“Eh” Clint said. Tony nodded and Thor shrugged. Bruce didn’t make eye contact when Steve looked at him.

“But I guess we actually didn’t know, since you’re not gay,” Clint said.

“Yeah my wallet will never forget how not gay you are,” Tony groaned.

“Tony,” Natasha said. “You’re a fucking millionaire. You’ll have made that hundred dollars back by tomorrow.”

Tony smirked. “True.”

Thor spoke up after he had settled his debts. “And Steve there is nothing wrong with being the way you are. My own brother is bisexual and I think no lesser of him because of it.”

“Thor,” Tony said. “Your brother is fucking insane and a criminal.”

“But not because he is bi.” Thor said, with a satisfied smile. “And Loki is no criminal, the charges against him were dropped.”

“So, you agree he’s insane,” Tony said.

“Loki has his quirks,” Thor said. Steve smiled. His friends were oddly supportive in their own borderline insensitive way.

“So…” Clint said. “Why’d you come out of the closet now? I mean, if you’ve known for a while why now?”

Steve was about to speak, when Natasha said, “I caught Steve drawing one of our _male_ customers.” Steve blushed.

“Do we know him?” Bruce asked.

“Uh no,” Steve said. “His name’s Bucky.”

“He’s got long black hair, comes into the coffee shop every day, has dark bags under his eyes and always wears a ratty hoodie so he looks like a raccoon that crawled out of the trash,” Natasha said. Steve glared at her. “Hey,” she said. “I never said he wasn’t cute.”

“We will have to keep an eye out for him,” Thor said. Tony grinned.


	4. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm on time this time! And I promise more Bucky next chapter. I know the last few chapters have been really Bucky lite, but I'm finally getting around to the plot of this fic, so I promise more Stucky to come.

Steve stared out at the New York City skyline. Tony’s little get-together had quickly become a party, as Tony had chosen to celebrate Steve’s coming out the way he celebrated most events, with copious amounts of alcohol. A few beers and some vodka later, Thor was loudly regaling tales of his youth and Clint was trying to shoot an apple off Dummy’s head. Clint had wanted to try and shoot an apple off Tony’s head, but since Clint had already begun to slur slightly, Bruce had put a stop to that. Steve had stepped out onto the balcony for a bit of peace and quiet by the time the fifth arrow had hit the wall.

Steve heard the sliding glass door to the balcony begin to creak open. “Natasha, I’ll come back inside soon. I just wanted some fresh air.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

Steve turned around to see Bruce slouching in the doorway. Steve had rarely talked to Bruce one-on-one. What he knew about him had been picked up from brief moments of conversation or a quick joke Tony had made at a bar. Bruce worked in the development and research department of Stark Industries. Tony had met Bruce when the two had studied at MIT together. Bruce had majored in environmental science with plans to take a quiet job studying plants at a laboratory somewhere, but Tony had told Bruce that if he accepted a job at Stark Industries, he would devote a portion of the company to developing clean energy alternatives. It seemed a bit extreme, changing your company for just one man, but Bruce was the only person Steve had ever heard Tony describe as “almost as smart as me”.

“Can I join you?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

Bruce walked up to the railing of the balcony, where Steve was standing. For a moment the two just stared in silence out at the city. Steve loved the view of New York from Tony’s penthouse. He loved how the city was so large he could barely see the end of it and he loved how the lights of the city made it look like a sky full of stars. From the heights of the balcony Steve almost felt like a god, looking down on his city of stars. He wanted to stay in those moments forever. The feeling only lasted for a moment though. Then he would become vividly aware of the sounds of traffic below and sirens in the distance and he would remember his friends and think of how lonely it would be if he was a god with nothing but a city of stars.

“Wow. It really is beautiful.” Bruce broke the silence. “When Tony was trying to convince me to move to New York, he brought me up here to show me the view. Said there was no way I’d want to leave after I had seen this.”

“And it convinced you to move?” Steve asked.

“No, the lab downstairs did.” Bruce smiled. “But the view was nice too.”

Steve smiled at Bruce. He could understand why Tony liked him. He was soft-spoken and yet he spoke carefully, so that his every word sounded intelligent. For a while the two of them just stared out at the city, both enjoying the calm.

Then Bruce spoke. “I thought I might check on how you were doing. What you just did was very brave. It would be understandable for you to be… shaken up over it. And you seemed fairly shaken earlier.”

“I’m fine.” Steve said. “You don’t have to worry about me. You can go back inside and get drunk with the others.” Steve paused and considered how level-headed Bruce was acting. “By the way, why are you not drunk with the others?”

Bruce sighed. “Oh drinking just isn’t my… thing. I don’t appreciate the…” He started to wring his hands. “loss of control.”

Steve nodded.

For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then Bruce spoke, desperate to change the topic, “so did you grow up here?”

“Yeah. I was born and raised in Brooklyn. I lived right over there.” Steve pointed towards a mass of lights across the East River.

“It must be nice living so close to home.”

“Yeah, it’s nice, but the areas changed so much since I lived there. Sometimes I walk down the streets I used to play on and I don’t even recognize it. It used to be a lot rougher when I was a kid. Now there are organic produce stands in the alleys I used to get beat up in.”

“You get in a lot of fights?” Bruce said with a smile.

Steve laughed. “I’m not sure if you could call them fights. I was tiny back then, they were more beatings than fights.”

Bruce fidgeted with his glasses. He was still smiling, but he was staring into the distance and Steve could tell it was half-hearted. Steve stopped laughing. Talking to new people was always hard. With Tony or Natasha he knew all the conversational pits to avoid. He knew not to mention Howard around Tony and he knew not to mention life in the Russian orphanage around Natasha, but he didn’t know what to avoid mentioning around Bruce, so for now he would just have to settle for awkward silence, as the two men dwelled uncomfortably on memories of their past.

“Hey thanks, man,” Steve said, trying to start the conversation again.

Bruce stopped staring at the city skyline. “For what?” he asked.

“For coming out to check on me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Really.” Bruce smiled. “I think I could tear myself away from watching Clint destroy Tony’s interior decorating.”

Steve laughed, “Well you might want to get back in there before anything else gets destroyed.”

Bruce nodded and left, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

Steve was sure he would be interrogated by Natasha tomorrow about why he had spent so much time outside, but for now he didn’t care. Bruce’s question about whether he got into fights had dredged up a part of his past he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget being too weak to defend himself. He wanted to forget the hours he spent lying on the pavement, surrounded by his own blood, too weak too stand. Yet as much as he wanted to forget it, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t regret telling the group of guys beating a boy for a being a “faggot” to quit it and he didn’t regret telling the boy who shoved a little girl into the mud to stop. He just wanted to forget the consequences.

 

* * *

 

 

“HEY NATASHA. HOW ARE YOU DOING?” Steve yelled.

Natasha groaned and began to rub her temples. She was wearing sunglasses and her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed. Steve was sure that if she took off her glasses he would see the ghost of last night’s mascara.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you, you sadist,” Natasha said.

“No, I enjoyed you angrily slurring at Tony in Russian last night, while riding on Thor’s shoulders. This is just your punishment for showing up to work late.”

Natasha groaned again. “Really? I’m late? Дерьмо. Remind me never to accept an invitation from Tony ever again.”

“Tony wasn’t the one calling Thor his “beautiful Norwegian steed”. Don’t blame this on Tony.”

“Please tell me no one took a video of that.”

“No.” Steve smiled. “Bruce and I knew that if a video of that ever turned up you’d sever our spines.”

“You and Bruce made a very smart decision. Now I’m gonna go work in the back. In the dark. Away from all this-” Natasha gestured wildly around the coffee shop. “Noise”

“Natasha, no one’s even here yet.”

Natasha dismissed Steve with a wave of her hand and walked to the back. Steve knew she wouldn’t get a lot of work done today. She should have just taken a sick day, she was yet to take one, but he and she couldn’t afford more employees to cover. Besides the coffee shop was Natasha’s baby. Steve may technically be a co-owner, but she was the one who ran it. She couldn’t bear to leave control of her baby out of her hands for even a day, not that she would ever admit it.

Steve got to work preparing the shop for opening. Since he was doing twice as much of the work he usually did, he barely had the place ready by the time the sun came up and the first customers began to trickle in. Then he began taking orders, making coffee, and anxiously checking his watch every few minutes to see how much longer it would be till Bucky came in.

Finally around two, Bucky walked through the door. Bucky had responded positively to the drawing, even if Steve still cringed remembering the incident, so Steve was hoping to actually start a conversation with him today. He walked up to the counter and ordered his usual. As the coffee slowly dripped into the cup, Steve wracked his mind for something clever to say.

“So…” Steve started. Bucky looked up from the ground to look at Steve. “So… is Bucky short for anything?” _Goddamnit Steve. Could you possibly have been anymore awkward. What if his name is just Bucky and he’s offended that you suggested it was a nickname. No that’s stupid. Why would he be offended? You’re being stupid. Stop being stupid. Oh god._

“Yeah.” Bucky spoke, interrupting Steve’s internal monolougue. “It’s actually short for my middle name. My real name is James, James Barnes.”

Steve felt all the oxygen in the room vanish. _Holy shit._


	5. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Steve's past relationship with Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, surprise I am not dead! I started writing this fic as a gift for a friend. She was feeling stressed and I thought this might cheer her up. I then abandoned it till today when she started feeling crappy again. So basically the updating schedule for this fic is based entirely on my friend's mood.

_Steve walked up to the house. It looked like every other house on the suburban street, it was only distinguished by the litter, the crowd of teenagers, and the deafening noise. He could hear shouting and music coming from inside. The house practically vibrated with the bass. Two teenagers sat on the front porch, their lips so tightly locked, that Steve wondered how they were even breathing. Steve averted his eyes._

_“You do realize the cops are gonna get called right?” Steve said._

_“Oh lighten up,” Angie said, with her usual smile. In the dim light of the streetlamps, Angie wound her fingers around Peggy’s. Peggy looked to Angie and smiled. Then Peggie’s smile drooped as she let go of Angies hand. Angie pursed her lip, but didn’t say anything._

_“Well let’s go inside,” Angie said. Her voice had a slight edge to it that hadn’t been there moments before. The three teenagers began to walk up to the front porch of the house. Peggy looked slightly sheepish and Angie looked to the off to the side, her smile replaced by a frown._

_Steve hated to see them like this. The two girls had just started dating a month ago. Peggy had phoned Steve and excitedly told him all about how they had their first kiss behind the small café on Maple Street. As far as Steve knew, he was the only person that knew, and the only person who they were planning to tell._

_Steve opened the front door and entered Dugan’s living room. Inside, there were teenagers and cans of beer everywhere. A few kids were sitting around a coffee table, laughing and passing a bong around. There was something that looked like vomit on one of the couches and in the corner by a well-stocked bar, a group of boys chanted as another boy held a bottle of beer to his lips for what seemed like an impossibly long time. Steve’s first instinct was to leave, to get out before the cops inevitably showed up. He supposed Angie was right about him being a stick in the mud. He just didn’t understand the fun of drinking beer on the weekends with the same people who ignored him on the weekdays._

_Peggy turned towards Angie, “Do you want me to grab you a beer?”_

_Angie pursed her lips. “No, I’m gonna go talk to some other people.” Angie walked away. Peggy sighed._

_Steve stood by Peggy, wondering if he should say something while she pouted._

_“So,” Steve said. “What’s going on with you two? I thought she was okay with keeping your…” Steve fumbled for the right words to say, “ science project.” Peggy looked at Steve. Her eyebrows were furrowed. “A secret,” Steve continued._

_“Science project?” Peggy asked._

_“What else do you want me to say?” Steve asked._

_Peggy thought for a moment then looked around the room. “I think she would like to keep our science project a secret. She understands how hard it would be to tell people and I think she’s afraid of the backlash, but I don’t think she likes having to be so cautious all the time, always looking over our shoulders.”_

_“Sounds like she’s more frustrated at living in a world where lab reports aren’t widely accepted than she is at you,” Steve said._

_Peggy stared at Steve. “Lab reports?” Steve started to speak, but Peggy cut him off. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to go speak to Angie.”Peggy walked away, leaving Steve alone in a room of strangers._

_Steve looked around, seeing if there was anyone else he knew. He saw Gabe Jones, from US history, talking to Jim Morita on the other side of the room. Steve thought about going over and saying hello, but he didn’t want to interrupt and the loud music was starting to give him a headache._

_Steve walked across the room. He slid open the glass door and let the cool night air wash over him. There were much fewer kids out here. It was just Steve and a few stoners smoking a joint on the patio._

_Dugan had a beautiful yard. Or more accurately, Dugan’s parents had a beautiful yard. Steve doubted Dugan was the gardening type. The yard looked like something out of a magazine. There was a small patio and pots filled with varying shades of flowers. Beyond the patio, there was an apple tree filled with small white flowers and a few small green fruits. Steve walked over to the apple tree. He wondered if it would have any fruit. He doubted it, since the summer had just begun. School wasn’t even out yet._

_“Shouldn’t you be inside partying? Not out here picking apples?”_

_Steve blushed. He had thought he was alone._

_“Not that there are any there. I already checked.”_

_Steve turned around. There was a teenage boy standing behind him, smiling. He was handsome, with messy dark hair and stubble on his chin. Steve smiled shyly._

_“I guess I’m just not one for parties,” Steve said._

_The boy said, “Yeah, I think I’d remember seeing you at one before.”_

_Steve’s mouth went dry._

_“It’s probably a good thing you’re not one for parties because I was just thinking about leaving and would hate it if you didn’t come with me.” The boy smirked and Steve knew that James had probably left parties early with a lot of people._

_“I don’t even know your name.”_

_“It’s James, James Barnes. So can we leave now?”_

_Steve had only known this boy for a few minutes, he’d only known his name for a few seconds. Common sense told Steve this was a bad idea, but Steve had never really been one for listening to common sense. “Yeah.” Steve said. “Where do you wanna go?” Oh well, Angie was always telling him he needed to be more social. Although he wasn’t really thinking about what Angie thought. Not now. For now all he could focus on was how James was smiling at him and his stomach felt like it had dropped down to its knees._

_“I know this nice little diner on Pacific street,” James said._

_Steve nodded. James could have said the moon and the Steve would have nodded._

_The two walked over to the garden gate. James held the garden door open for him and smiled. Steve thought that James must know the effect his smile had on Steve. Steve had never felt this way about a guy. Sure, he had had crushes before. A quick glance stolen at the boy who sat behind him in class and a fluttering in his chest when the cashier at the movie theatre touched his hand, handing him his change. He hadn’t told anyone and had never felt like he had had to. Nothing was going to come of it. Besides, Steve was already bullied for being skinny and artsy. He didn’t need to be bullied for being a “fag” as well._

_Steve and James walked down the sidewalk. Steve said nothing. He just bunched up his hands in his pants pockets and stared at the sidewalk. James didn’t say anything either. The further they got from Dugan’s house the quieter the world became. A lone car raced by the dimly lit sidewalk. Somewhere in the distance a siren sounded and a cricket chirped. James just looked forward with a slight smile on his face._

_James said, “So what brought you to that party, if you’re not one for parties?”_

_“Insistent friends.”_

_“Well, your friends should be insistent more often. I would go to more if I knew you were gonna be there,” James said. He looked at Steve and his slight smile became wider._

_“Well if I knew you were gonna be at Dugan’s, my friends wouldn’t have had to be so insistent,” Steve said._

_James and Steve reached the front of the café. This time Steve held the door open for James. The two sat down at a booth and ordered milkshakes. James told Steve he hadn’t truly lived till he’d had the chocolate milkshake from the Stardust diner._

_James and Steve talked for hours. Steve talked about his art and his friends and James talked about the cross-country team and wanting to serve in the military like his dad. Steve was surprised by just how easy it was. He’d only been on one other date before. It was with Angie, and it didn’t really count because he had just been pretending to take her out in front of her parents. He had smiled at her mom and shook her dad’s hand then dropped her off at the movie theater and went to get a coffee while her and Peggy went out. Steve only counted it as a date because it was the closest he had ever come to one. Girls weren’t really clamoring to go out with a guy who was 4 inches shorter and 20 pounds lighter than they were._

_Steve had also never been kissed._

_That changed that night as well._

_James reached to wipe a bit of milkshake from Steve’s lower lip and Steve nearly shuddered at the touch. He opened up his mouth to say something, to tell James he didn’t have to do that, or whatever he had to say to retain his dignity and make himself seem unphased by something as chaste as a touch. Then James leaned in. Almost involuntarily, Steve opened his slightly and closed his eyes. James lips were soft. Steve expected to have more thoughts during something as momentous as his first kiss, but his mind goes blank and all his worries about not being a good enough kisser or who might see them are replaced with “his lips are soft”, so he leans against the back alley wall and gives in._

_Steve doesn’t know how long they stand there. 5 seconds? An hour? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he wished it had been an eternity._


End file.
